


Protection I

by PandasFiction



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Bad x Skeppy, BadBoyHalo - Freeform, BadBoyHalo/Skeppy - Freeform, BadboyHalo x Skeppy, Darryl Noveschosch - Freeform, George - Freeform, M/M, Medieval, Minecraft, Quackity - Freeform, Skeppy & BadBoyHalo - Freeform, TechnoBlade, Tommy - Freeform, TommyInnit - Freeform, Tubbo - Freeform, Wilbur - Freeform, Zak AHmed - Freeform, Zak Ahmed x Darryl Noveschosch, Zak/Darryl - Freeform, dream - Freeform, dream team, mcyt - Freeform, minecraft youtube - Freeform, sapnap - Freeform, skeppy - Freeform, skeppy/badboyhalo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandasFiction/pseuds/PandasFiction
Summary: The land stretched far and wide. Villages sprinkled the surface, adding texture, depth, and a splash of life to an otherwise barren land. It was first Drought that became the first enemy of the kingdom, killing all crops in its wrath. While villages struggled for food and water, Disease grabbed on to those who turned a blind eye to Drought’s fury. Disease had then become the second enemy of the kingdom, running rampant and unchecked.Assumptions of the kingdom settled when Technoblade, the king, declared Skeppy, his former right-hand man, the third enemy of the kingdom. Blurred and obscure Intentions could not be any more evident to those in the castle -- especially BadBoyHalo.“The healed over scars sprinkled the shorter man’s face like corrupted freckles -- the beauty of them rang so vividly in BadBoyHalo’s mind now, like stars on a universe he always adored. He had not even realized he had brought his hand up to touch Skeppy’s face until he felt his finger tracing one particularly interesting scar on the jawline of the man in front of him. BadBoyHalo allowed himself to lean forward, allowing his forehead to connect with Skeppy’s, his hand now creeping ever towards his cheek."
Relationships: Skeppy/Badboyhalo, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch, skeppy x badboyhalo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 82





	1. Deceit

The sound of metal colliding with stone filled the room haphazardly in an instant -- the sword settling against the cool stone floor took only a moment. The blade had slipped away from Skeppy’s calloused fingers easily -- too quickly. Skeppy mumbled a curse under his breath, stepping back slightly to wrap his slender fingers around the sword to lift it once more. As he straightened his back, he lifted the sword to the torchlight to observe the potential damage of its fall; a scratch on the side of the blade, a small piece of the handle now missing, and a blunt edge was all that Skeppy could observe. His calm and slender fingers pulled the sword down from the light source and placed it softly on the table in front of him. It was impressively quiet now -- only the soft sound of the crackling torch built the noise atmosphere. 

Skeppy was lucky -- he lived comfortably in the castle, the right-hand man to the King himself. The world beyond the walls of the court was a particularly rough one. Besides the lands being covered in undead creatures and strange demons prone to self-explosion, Drought had wrapped its cruel hands around the necks of all members of the kingdom. As a result, following the trail that Drought had carved for it, Disease was next to greet the people, shaking hands with those already knocked down by Drought. Despite all of these conditions, those lucky enough to be housed in the castle walls faced none of the wraths of either force. Skeppy understood how lucky he really was, which is why he worked as tirelessly as he did. The man’s research would someday cure this kingdom of disease and wrath -- every day, he hoped he would break the barrier to that side of history.

Skeppy was appointed by the King himself, Technoblade. It has always been common knowledge on the existence of magic within the world these men inhabited. Many ancestors had discovered certain potions that allowed specific outcomes, but the proper amount of possible potions have remained mostly unknown. Some men had discovered the concept of enchanting weapons, and alternatively, curses. Skeppy, as recognized by Technoblade, had somewhat of a gift in magic. The man’s ability to develop potions, enchantments, curses, summons and more was extraordinary -- his control of energy and magic was unquestionable. With encouragement from Technoblade and his friends, Skeppy slaved away in his laboratory, developing all sorts of magical entities in hopes that one would be able to bring prosperity and wealth back into the land he so very loved. 

As Skeppy stepped away from his workstation, he caught his reflection momentarily in the glint of the sword he had just settled. Despite low lighting, Skeppy could clearly see his face’s features, an exciting sight for a man who has not seen his face in months. His hair was overgrown now, but it wasn’t a bad look, Skeppy decided. The soft black hair framed his face nicely; it was pushed back as far as he could manage. His face seemingly had matured but remained unchanged -- Skeppy decidedly landed on the idea that he liked the way his new face looked. The black coat Skeppy had resting on his shoulders felt heavy now, as if acknowledging the coat’s existence for the first time. 

Erratically, Skeppy’s hand darted up to his neck to touch the expensive amulet around it, almost as if he was checking to make sure it was still there. Skeppy moved slightly so that the reflection of the iron sword displayed the amulet now. He admired it -- the piece was expertly made by some highly paid goldsmith, no doubt. The gold wrapped around his neck kindly, as if it was happy to be there. Skeppy’s fingers traced along the gold engravings of ancient text, his mind wandering slightly to what it could mean. The man’s fingers settled on the precious gem in the center of the amulet, a giant, bright blue diamond. Touching it sent shivers down Skeppy’s spine. Despite wearing the expensive piece for years now, he always felt as entranced with it as the first time it was handed to him. It was the first piece Skeppy had ever enchanted on his own, an enchantment he had not even named yet -- it allowed him to almost sense his magical stamina more clearly than without it. Without the piece, Skeppy could acknowledge the energy within him, but it was much harder to contain and control; the amulet allowed him to clearly communicate with his own power. 

Skeppy tucked the amulet underneath the shirt he wore, hiding the gaudy piece under simple pieces of cloth. He tore his eyes away from the sword he had been attempting to enchant all day, straightening his back and running his hands through his hair. The man spun swiftly on his heels, deciding at the moment that he was hungry and that a quick walk down to the dining hall would do only good things for his concentration. As he passed the doorframe of his lair, he decided he wanted company, perhaps that of his good friends George, Sapnap, Dream, and maybe Technoblade -- but the man was often so busy, holding fort as King. George, Sapnap, and Dream all were royal advisors like him, their own divisions and their own work.

Skeppy, stepping fully out of the door now, took multiple quick steps toward the lair down the hall. The hallway was narrow but symmetrical, adorned with an occasional torch, painting, or guard. The floor was a tough cobblestone that alerted anyone nearby via the sound of shoe touching stone, a cloud clacking sound bouncing through the halls. 

Sapnap’s office of sorts was closest; popping his head in, he was confused to see absolutely nobody there. Confused, he walked farther down the hall, approaching George’s room. Again, he was left there confused as his eyes met with the darkness of the room. There was no subject to settle his eyes. Skeppy chuckled to himself slightly, wondering if they had gone somewhere without inviting him; he promised himself to tease them about it later. 

Skeppy walked even further down the hall, expecting to see nothing as he pushed open Dream’s door. He was correct, letting a sigh escape his lips as he spun on his heels off towards Technoblade’s workroom. Technoblade’s workroom was a large room where Sapnap, George, Dream, Technoblade, and Skeppy often held meetings on their work status; it had a quality of being expertly cold and uninviting, but to its defense, so did most of the castle. His shoes against stone suddenly silenced themselves as he stepped onto carpet, making his movements more anonymous now. Skeppy, expecting to see nobody, was surprised to hear men’s hushed voices when approaching Technoblade’s shut door. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, his hand on the doorknob, nearing making his presence known. It was the voice of Technoblade that halted him.

“As soon as Skeppy is done developing that enchantment for weapon durability, we can start the proceedings to overwhelm Ulalia,” Technoblade’s rough, muffled voice arose. Skeppy was stunned, standing there, his hand on the doorknob, almost making his entrance into the uninviting room. Why did Technoblade want to take over the neighboring kingdom Ulalia? He paused his thoughts and listened in again. 

“Does Skeppy still not know?” A sharp voice asked. Skeppy quickly identified it as his enjoyable friend Dream, and he wondered how many men were in that room. He felt a warm, sickly feeling creep into his chest as he listened on. He allowed his hand to drop to his side as the doorknob felt like fire on his hands. 

“Of course not,” another voice spoke. It was the entrancing voice of Sapnap this time. Skeppy swallowed. “Skeppy doesn’t know a thing. If he knew what we were using his magic for, he’d stop working instantly. That’s not really an option,” Sapnap finished, almost bitterly. There was a soft chuckle from Technoblade and the sound of a chair moving. Skeppy heard movement in the room now -- Afraid they knew he was there, Skeppy flattened his back against the wall to the side of the accompanying door. His thoughts were racing as the words of the men ran chaotically and unchecked in his mind now.

“Men, read over this,” Technoblade spoke. Skeppy was unsure of what Technoblade was referring to, but he imagined it was a timeline; the thoughts spurred energy into him. Skeppy was filling gaps in his mind as he listened to the rustling of paper from within the room; he was merely a pawn being played by the hands of his most valued friends. Everything made sense now -- why Technoblade pushed for more protective and combative enchantments, why his work wasn’t impacting the nation as he had hoped, why his friends seemed more interested in the job he was accomplishing rather than him as a person.

These so-called friends had taken advantage of Skeppy, and they intended to use his work to murder thousands. Skeppy decided, his thoughts clear now, that murder by proxy was not who he was. This path was not one he would take. He lifted his slender hand towards the doorknob again. It took only a moment to push open the door, declaring his arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Welcome. Thank you for reading the first chapter! This fanfiction is based in Minecraft and on their Minecraft characters! I hope you guys enjoy how the story plays out.


	2. Betrayal

As Skeppy pushed through the door, the cold, uninviting room met him halfway. His now-former friends’ eyes darted from the book that previously held their attention to meet his own. He felt trapped now, pushing himself through a door haphazardly and emotionally, unable to form a coherent sentence. Words bounced around all jumbled in his mind, a lump in his throat and sour pride in his chest, bubbling violently. 

“No,” he whispered in a strained voice, head pounding. Skeppy had no idea what to say, what to yell, what to beg. He swallowed and stood straight, allowing himself to take in the scene around him. Technoblade was the most apparent. He stood, tall, broad, and almost terrifying now. His long pink hair was pulled back with a single red piece of fabric, only pointy ears disrupting the pattern of soft har, heavy leather adorning his body. A long red mantle was draped over layers of leather, and a scuffed and dull crown sat on his head haphazardly, gemstones missing. Besides the few stray hairs falling in his face, Technoblade’s face was surprisingly organized. He was impossible to read; amber eyes unapologetically tracked his every move.

Dream’s blue eyes were next to catch Skeppy’s attention. Unforgiving eyes, Skeppy decided. Dream sat chaotically but confidently, sprawled against the chair, a leg on the table, another against the chair. His body was adorned in layers of fabric, including leather and cotton. A heavy, jade green leather jacket sat on his shoulders, a stable piece he often wore. Dream’s face was turned slightly into a smirk, his dirty blonde hair falling roughly into his face. A metal mask sat in front of him, a somewhat creepy piece that Dream wore with two holes for eyes and a horrifying scratch meant to resemble an exaggerated smile. 

George’s head cocked to the side, stealing away Skeppy’s attention. Short brown hair and piercing brown eyes complimented each other well. A pair of thick glasses sat on George’s head, kindly agreeing with the well-made brown tunic clinging to his body. George leaned against the table, an arm extended. George’s face was that of confusion at this moment. An eyebrow was raised, his nose was scrunched, and his lips moved towards a frown. He turned to meet eyes with the man next to him.

The eyes that greeted Skeppy next were Sapnap’s. His face was much kinder than the other’s, Skeppy observed. His black hair was the most chaotic of them all, pulled back with a white fabric piece. His eyes were as dark as his hair, but otherwise kind, at least on the surface. Sapnap had a long, skin-tight shirt clinging to his arms and neck. A white leather coat hung on his shoulders, agreeing with the fabric used to pull back his wavy black hair. Sapnap sat in a chair neatly, a book in his hands, and a concerned and awkward frown sprawled against his face.

“You can’t invade Ulalia,” Skeppy finally spat out. “Ulalia is an ally of the kingdom,” Skeppy spoke, elaborating the obvious. The sweaty and hurt man was suddenly exhausted now, swallowing hard and forcing himself to greet the response of the four far more capable men in front of him. Technoblade laughed, reaching up to his head to adjust his crown as if sending the message to everyone there that he was King -- and nobody else. 

“You have no power to tell me what to do, Skeppy. You know that.” Technoblade spoke. The tall man’s voice held not a single sound of remorse or sadness -- the devastatingly obvious words did nothing to settle the ever-increasing thoughts in Skeppy’s head. The clearly more powerful man cleared his throat. “It’s unfortunate you had to hear what you had, Skeppy. Manipulating you is much easier than this,” Technoblade spoke flatly, gesturing the scene in front of him.

“I don’t… what?” Skeppy whispered, his voice filled with hurt. He tore his eyes away from the taller, pink-haired man to rest them on the ground for a moment. Skeppy’s question was mostly rhetorical as he processed the facade that was his entire life. Swallowing, he spoke softly once more. It was the most cohesive sentence he could utter. “You know I can’t help you more than I already have.”

Technoblade scoffed, drawing everyone’s attention. “I know you won’t. You either help me and continue your life as is, or you’re gone,” Technoblade spoke, a large hand dragging his thumb across his neck, indicating a much more violent path. The prompt was jumbled in Skeppy’s mind. He couldn’t think, regardless of what he did. His mind was so crammed with thoughts, emotions, and considerations; it was overflowing like a glass of water left under a fountain too long. “Guards, take him away,” Technoblade spoke again. It was so hard to focus on his words now; he sounded so far away. Skeppy placed his hands over his ears, the ambient noise of the room fading into nothingness. He looked up at Technoblade, whose mouth was moving and hands were gesturing wildly, unable to hear a single sound. Hands latched on to either side of him, pushing him out of the room. 

Alarmed, Skeppy suddenly felt a surge of energy as fire erupted from his fingertips, pushing the guards away from him, burning them in the process. He yelled, feeling the force of his voice rushing from his mouth, but not a single sound could be heard. He held his hands to his ears again, slamming them against the cartilage roughly, pleading to hear again. A suddenly violent pain struck through his head, and he chaotically wondered if he had hit himself too hard. Skeppy turned his head slightly, his vision threatening to turn to the same status of his hearing, a guard held a flat piece of metal, and it was apparent he had been hit. He did not feel his body collapsing into the floor. He did not feel the guards lifting him. He did not feel his body being thrown into a cell. He did not feel when guards surrounded him. He did not feel the first kick or the second. He did feel the third.

Skeppy was startled awake; another hard kick sent a wave of pain through Skeppy. The battered man’s entire body ached, waves of pain deciding to make themselves known. The guards around him were suited in iron, standing tall and violent -- Skeppy knew he was powerless here. A sharp, ragged breath was sucked in as a guard suddenly pulled the collar of his shirt to force him to look him in his eyes. Cold, calloused hands wrapped around his neck momentarily before they moved down slightly, suddenly ripping the gold amulet from his neck, forcing a red ring of irritation to form from where the amulet dug into the skin from the rough mishandling. Skeppy was thrown down onto the ground again, his head slamming against the unforgiving cobblestone underneath him. The loss of the enchanted amulet clouded his mind more now, his magic haphazard and uncontrollable. Skeppy fell in and out of consciousness as he was beaten, hard tears staining his face, mixing with blood and vomit.

Finally, after what seemed to be a tragic few hours, a sentence rang clear in Skeppy’s ears. Skeppy instantly regretted being able to hear once more, shutting his eyes, pulling his hands over his ears again. A senior guard cleared his throat and gestured to a sheepish looking guard standing near the cell door. “BadBoyHalo, dispose of him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Kindness

The first thing that Skeppy noticed when he stirred was that the air was different, somehow. The salty and humid air engulfed his mouth when he drew in his first long breath, inspiring nothing in terms of familiarity. He briefly wondered if he had died but wiped away the clouded thought at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t until Skeppy felt a cold piece of cloth held to his face gently until he snapped his eyes open. 

A tall, scruffy haired man leaned over him, a concerned look on his face, blood-soaked rag in his hands. In front of him, the pale man had fluffy brown hair with matching brown eyes past the pieces of glass resting on his nose. The man’s glasses were thin and poorly made, his shirt was now soaked in blood, and when Skeppy really peered close, this man seemed exhausted. The man, catching eyes with Skeppy, abruptly stood and stepped back. He held his hands up, uncertain, rag still in hand.

“I’m BadBoyHalo! I’m…. not going to hurt you,” the man said, voice slightly strained. Those words made Skeppy’s face wince, drawing in a sharp breath. The last thing he could recall before now was that name. Was BadBoyHalo preparing Skeppy for death? Was this tall man here to escort him to his demise? BadBoyHalo seemed surprised for a moment before speaking again, albeit a little sheepish this time. His free hand scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. “I was supposed to….remove you…and I couldn’t. So I brought you here... my home.” 

Skeppy attempted to speak, but not a single word could leave when he drew in air to communicate his thoughts. The injured man tried his best to sit up, looking around slightly, attempting to familiarize himself with his surroundings. Skeppy’s extent was a very shabby looking bedroom, laying on a rough wooden bedframe with layers of fabric for a mattress. Light streamed in via two glass windows, one behind him, one from the side of him. The bright light reminded Skeppy it was daytime, and his mind was fuzzy, and he did not know what day it was. The room was cold but inviting, containing the appearance of a friendly, well-established home, regardless of the slight mess. 

Skeppy then noticed now that his arms and legs were bandaged haphazardly; pulling his fingers to his face allowed him to observe that they had also been wrapped. Moving his fingers to feel his face, he felt small adhesives sprinkling it; he also realized why this man had held a rag to his head. Skeppy had been sweating profusely, a fever no doubt, which was apparent when he pulled his hand away from his face; the bandages around his fingers were now holding droplets of sweat and blood. Looking past his fingers, he looked at the man -- BadBoyHalo.

“Thank you,” was all Skeppy could mutter as BadBoyHalo was moving again, holding Skeppy’s long, slender hand kindly. He was quickly and expertly removing the sweat-soaked bandages from his fingers, muttering under his breath instinctively that Skeppy shouldn’t touch his face anymore. As he wrapped Skeppy’s fingers, one by one, he whistled a tune -- a silly one, Skeppy decided. 

“Okay, Skeppy,” BadBoyHalo started to speak again, grabbing his sweat and blood-soaked rag once more and holding it to Skeppy’s face. The injured man liked the cool rag against his face. “You can’t tell anyone you’re here, no matter what. The castle thinks you’re dead; if they find out what I’ve done, they’ll kill me. You’re an enemy of the kingdom,” BadBoyHalo chuckled nervously, placing the rag to the side momentarily. As soon as BadBoyHalo turned his head to the side, Skeppy pushed himself up, groaning in pain, his head now resting tensely against the headboard. “Skeppy!” BadBoyHalo yelled before lowering his voice into a whisper yell. “Don’t do that! Skeppy, don’t do that!” 

Skeppy chuckled softly, a small smile creeping onto his face. BadBoyHalo frowned, but in a kind, teasing way. “I’m serious, Skeppy, you’re hurt pretty bad,” he spoke again, his voice engulfed by concern one more. Skeppy nodded, swallowed hard, and forced out a ragged breath.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Skeppy’s words broke into the air. The terms decided to linger, but not sour. Clearing his throat, Skeppy broke the atmosphere again. “They wanted… They wanted me to do something that would kill-”

“I know, Skeppy,” BadBoyHalo interrupted. He quickly dropped his gaze, finding the floor safer than Skeppy’s dark brown eyes. “I see you every day in the halls. I was one of the guards who carried you to the cell,” BadBoyHalo spoke softly. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to show a large, hand-sized burn that Skeppy inflicted on him, jogging Skeppy’s memory of the events in question. “I’m not a bad guy either. I only work as a guard to survive; there are not many jobs a man can get nowadays,” BadBoyHalo’s voice faltered. “I agree with you. I don’t want magic to be used to hurt people.”

Skeppy was surprised and suddenly guilty that he hadn’t spoken to a single guard in all of his years in the castle. It clicked on why the man knew his name and why he had been saved. Skeppy broke the hanging silence. It was tense but not necessarily uncomfortable. “Do you have anything to drink?” 

BadBoyHalo smiled a kind smile and nodded. He hummed a sweet little tune in affirmation, turning on his heels and walking out the bedroom door. In a few moments, BadBoyHalo returned with a tall glass of water and a loaf of bread, setting the meal on the small table next to the bed. “Here you go, Skeppy. It would be best if you tried to eat, too,” BadBoyHalo said, sitting on the bed next to Skeppy and handing him the glass of water. 

Shaky but grateful hands accepted the glass of water, downing it all in an instant. BadBoyHalo took the glass from his hands, placing it back on the nearby table. He then lifted the average looking bread and broke it into a small, more comfortable piece to eat, handing it to Skeppy. Skeppy watched kindly as the gentle, tall man made sure the break was broken in such a way that Skeppy would find no trouble eating it. He smiled subconsciously at the taller man’s generosity as he accepted the bread.

“Oh! Also, once you’re feeling a bit better, I found some clothes that don’t fit me too well that you can change into,” BadBoyHalo smiled, his eyes sparkling. “I don’t want you to stay in your bloody clothes, but I also didn’t want to change your clothes without your consent,” BadBoyHalo trailed off, looking sheepish before looking at Skeppy brightly. “I washed the black coat you had on, though!” 

“No fucking way,” Skeppy laughed, a warm feeling prickling at his face. Something about BadBoyHalo’s energy was infectious, and he was starting to feel alright again. “I thought it would’ve been lost forever,” Skeppy finished, looking back at BadBoyHalo to see a sour look on his face. 

“Language,” BadBoyHalo spoke, making Skeppy turn his head, teasing. He scrunched his face and crossed his arms over his chest, clearing his throat. 

“So you’ll commit treason against an entire kingdom before saying a swear?” Skeppy jeered, causing a goofy smile to sprawl over both men’s faces. BadBoyHalo sucked in a gasp.

“Maybe…” He muttered, trying not to let his smile be too apparent, but both men felt the warm, calm feeling of banter regardless of if their faces told that story or not. BadBoyHalo stood from his spot on the bed, humming slightly. “Let me get those clothes for you.”

As BadBoyHalo exited the room, Skeppy watched the atmosphere follow him. The room now seemed empty and felt once against warmth flood through his chest and to his cheeks. He felt immensely grateful for the kindness of BadBoyHalo, and he felt tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. Shaking his head, he allowed his head to softly fall back on the bed frame, a content smile on his face. When BadBoyHalo entered the room again, he held a few clothing pieces and sat them softly on the bed before backing out of the room. “Let me know if you need help with anything... “BadBoyHalo awkwardly said, his eyes on anything but Skeppy’s. Skeppy giggled softly, gesturing with his hand for him to leave. 

It took a while, and admittedly it hurt, but Skeppy was finally able to pull on the clothes, getting to his shaky feet. He could feel that the clothes were too big, but it did not matter to him -- he felt safe at this moment. “BadBoyHalo, you can come in.” 

The door swung open slowly, and BadBoyHalo stuck his head through the crack, his eyes widening slightly. “Oh, if I would’ve known they would be too big, I would’ve-- Wait, Skeppy, you need to lie down,” BadBoyHalo said, rushing over to Skeppy, gesturing for him to sit. “When you’re feeling better, you should come to meet some of my friends!” BadBoyHalo spoke excitedly. Skeppy chuckled, dropping his gaze to the floor, warmth in his cheeks.

“Thank you, BadBoyHalo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting everyone!


	4. Whrilwind

“I promise nobody will recognize you,” BadBoyHalo’s voice rang clearly in Skeppy’s ears. He then offered Skeppy a small smile, eyebrows raised and soft. Skeppy scrunched his nose, pulling at the clothes he was wearing, cocking his head to the side as BadBoyHalo’s voice filled the room once again. “No offense Skeppy, but you in normal clothes look nothing like Skeppy from the castle.” 

“Hey! Is that an insult? I thought I looked cute,” Skeppy spoke, feigning hurt, but an unmistakable smile could be traced by the notes of sweetness in his words. BadBoyHalo exhaled, a sloppy smile on his face, bringing a hand to his head in defeat. Skeppy’s eyes traced BadBoyHalo’s rotating expressions, watching him kindly, head still at an angle. Once BadBoyHalo caught his eyes, his brows furrowed for only a fleeting moment before a wide smile erupted upon his face. The pair had a miraculous way of speaking through body language, despite how little they really knew each other. Skeppy squeezed his eyes shut, turning away, and an ever infectious smile threatening to make itself known. Warmth prickled kindly against his chest, spreading through his body like boiling blood, prompting a deep exhale.

Hanging loosely on Skeppy’s body was a scuffed looking black shirt paired with a pair of matching brown pants. Skeppy’s boots were simple brown, not very apparent due to the cover of the barely too-long pants. Luckily, Skeppy’s outfit included nothing of bandages, his injuries mostly completely healed over now. The concept of time now was not a pending demand anymore, and Skeppy often thought days tended to run into each other.

If anyone were to ask him how long he’s been in BadBoyHalo’s home, he’d probably give a comically wrong amount of time. 

BadBoyHalo often left Skeppy home alone, traveling to work evenings at the castle, a thick sheet of anxiety following him and his crime. As BadBoyHalo arrived home in the early evenings before sunrise, Skeppy made it a point to be awake as he returned, hopeful to catch a conversation with him, regardless if he would admit that or not. As he spoke to BadBoyHalo more and more as he arrived home from work, Skeppy watched BadBoyHalo grow more and more tired, carrying the secret around; Skeppy felt pangs of guilt and yearned to help the kindest man he had ever met. He simply did not know how.

As time passed, BadBoyHalo and Skeppy grew close -- at least that’s what Skeppy imagined. The pair fit well together, like pieces of a puzzle, like complementary colors; Different, but connected. Skeppy wondered if this was what it was like to have a real friend, knowing now the extent of his other friendships. He often found himself thinking while he felt things about BadboyHalo he never did with his old comrades, though. Skeppy pondered why his cheeks and chest would prick with warmth when BadBoyHalo would sit too near him, why his magic would come bubbling up unpredictably when BadBoyHalo would coworkers or friends in a particular way, why when BadBoyHalo would touch him to change his bandages he would quickly become overstimulated. The topic was too clouded and too busy to read, so Skeppy settled on the conclusion that of none -- he excused himself for not solving the issue, citing recent trauma, rightfully so.

In the evenings, Skeppy did everything in his power to pass the time and avoid thinking; sleeping, cleaning the house, and even tossing pebbles at the wall -- to BadBoyHalo’s dismay. After one particularly rough week and two days free of work ahead of him, BadBoyHalo stepped into his home with an unusual smile sprawled across his face. As he removed the signifying garments worn proudly by guards and began placing them on the table, he caught Skeppy emerging from his room. BadBoyHalo, observing Skeppy’s healing limp, deemed Skeppy healthy enough to spend a day in the village. 

Skeppy liked to believe BadBoyHalo was merely tired of finding hundreds of pebbles all over his home.

“Come on, Skeppy,” BadBoyHalo spoke, breaking the comfortable silence. Skeppy immediately noticed the softer and calmer tone he now spoke with, unlike his return on most nights. BadBoyHalo moved around Skeppy, placing his thick leather jacket around Skeppy’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s go,” he repeated, gesturing with his hand to follow him. BadBoyHalo briefly spun on his heels, turning his back to Skeppy, hand wrapping around the doorknob ahead of him. Opening the door, a gust of cool air rushed into the home, blasting against BadBoyHalo’s face. Skeppy took some steps forward, pushing BadBoyHalo softly out of the door, shutting it behind them. Skeppy observed the new environment, no longer limited to a sheet of glass between him and the outside.

The streets were lined with a fragile layer of snow, small pieces of white falling every once and awhile. Shabby houses lined the streets, lined up with BadBoyHalo’s, fitting in just fine, he observed. Oil lamps lined the streets as well, half of them missing the oil required to keep burning, but it did not matter. Despite the cloudy, white sky, it was more than bright enough to observe the delightfully beautiful day. BadBoyHalo offered Skeppy a kind, exciting smile as he watched Skeppy’s eyes collect new memories. 

The pair began their walk towards the town, leaving soft footprints in the snow, chattering aimlessly about nothing in particular. Discussion of work, discussion of boredom; none of it really mattered as eager thoughts buzzed around in Skeppy’s mind.

As the pair walked ever closer to the chattering town, Skeppy felt uneasiness begin to bubble up within him. Subconsciously, Skeppy’s hand reached to the back of BadBoyHalo’s shirt, grabbing it tightly between his fingers. BadBoyHalo seemed to notice, slowing his pace momentarily, clocking his head towards Skeppy’s. Skeppy’s eyes looked straight ahead. No words left either of their lips; not a single emotion flashed between the two. BadBoyHalo nodded to himself, not asking nor correcting Skeppy’s nervous hand, and began to walk once more. 

When the pair finally entered the edge of the city, BadBoyHalo walked Skeppy with gentle admiration as his eyes darted from subject to subject. People briskly walked by, children in arms. Stands filled with items had bright, colorful signs to attract potential customers; chatter was aimless and impossible to follow. The oil lamps here closer to the town were all lit and maintained, allowing soft yellow light to fall onto the passerby’s faces. As they walked closer towards the shopping district, BadBoyHalo felt a strange blend of warmth and calm wash over him, despite the cool air and ice surrounding him. His eyes watched Skeppy closely. He enjoyed how his hair allowed yellow light to bounce from it ever so softly. The way his large jacket hung loosely over the smaller man’s frame. He liked the still calmness that existed between them. Most of all, he liked how the soft glow of gold reflected so kindly from his eyes. 

Another step forward brought the pair closer towards the commotion. Suddenly, Skeppy’s feet were in front of them both, hand still comfortably wrapped around his shirt, pulling BadBoyHalo with him. BadBoyHalo watched as the smaller man’s face broke into a toothy smile. Turning his gaze to what was in front of them, his feet began to move, too. 

“Skeppy,” BadBoyHalo spoke, his voice cracking in the cool, blending into the many voices around them. As Skeppy turned to meet his eyes, a floppy smile appeared on his face. BadBoyHalo reached into his pocket and, on its exit, reached out to Skeppy’s. He placed five cold coins into his hand, tilting his head toward the stand that had caught Skeppy’s eye. Skeppy’s hand wrapped around the metal as his eyes turned toward BadBoyHalo’s nudge. It was a small stand adorned with bright colors of red and pink, lined up with an array of baked goods.

Skeppy’s eyes lit up. He mouthed a soft thank you as he turned to examine the goods in front of them. BadBoyHalo enjoyed this new Skeppy. Unlike Skeppy from the castle, he was much more childlike and jubilant. BadBoyHalo immensely disliked the permanent lines of stress on Skeppy’s face -- not because he felt they were ugly, but because he hated the former colder and stressed man of the castle. 

Not that he could ever find any part of Skeppy ugly. 

“Bad!” A voice rang out, causing BadBoyHalo to turn his head in the direction of the voice. Three faces met with BadBoyHalo’s. One was a very tall man with scruffy brown hair, a soft smile, and a flask between his partially gloved fingers. The second was slightly shorter but still a tall boy. His hair was blonde speckled with snow, bright blue eyes, and a mischievous smile. The final was a much shorter boy with flat brown hair, dark blue eyes, and a kind smile dancing on his face. A smile spread across BadBoyHalo’s face.

“Wilbur! Tommy! Tubbo!” BadBoyHalo said, joy intertwining his words as he spoke. Skeppy turned around, a cinnamon roll in his hands, looking between BadBoyHalo and the three tall individuals in front of him, waiting for an introduction. 

“Hey, guys! This is Skeppy. He’s a… Friend. From out of town,” BadBoyHalo said, swallowing. His voice was dry, but one could easily assume it was merely the freezing air filling his lungs. The three looked at him skeptically but asked no questions as Skeppy lent the three a soft but reserved smile. 

“Skeppy, this is Wilbur,” BadBoyHalo spoke, gesturing to the tallest of the three. Skeppy located Wilbur, acknowledging his height and frame underneath the thick wool coat.

“These two are his younger brothers, Tubbo and Tommy.” Skeppy looked up to BadBoyHalo, watching him explain. “They’re good friends of mine.” 

As Wilbur reached out his hand to shake Skeppy’s, the two younger teenagers began to argue about what they should spend their allowance on, prompting an eye roll from Wilbur. BadBoyHalo chuckled softly at the scene, then leaned over and whispered to Skeppy.

“They’re always like that.” Skeppy smiled warmly. Bringing his eyes to Wilbur, he noticed that Wilbur’s eyes were glued to Skeppy’s hand that was still wrapped firmly around BadBoyHalo’s shirt. Suddenly insecure, he let his hand fall to his side, making BadBoyHalo turn to meet Skeppy’s side profile. BadBoyHalo watched Skeppy nervously observe Wilbur. 

“Tubbo, if we buy an iron chest plate, we would get all the ladies!” Tommy said in the distance. Tubbo let out an exasperated sigh.  
“We don’t have enough for two. You’re trying to scam me out of my allowance. I want to buy more flowers for my bees,” Tubbo said, head tilted to the side, arms folded over his chest. 

“Sorry about them,” Wilbur spoke, drawing both men’s attention back up to him. A soft smile flashed over his face. “They actually don’t hate each other, I promise.” 

Chuckles arose from all three adults.

Turning towards the boys, Wilbur threw his arm over their necks, causing a chorus of protests from both of them. Wilbur looked from BadBoyHalo to Skeppy. “Would you two like to join us? We were planning on heading down to the fields. The boys want to spar,” Wilbur spoke, humor intertwining in his words as he spoke towards BadBoyHalo and Skeppy. BadBoyHalo looked over at Skeppy, waiting for any sign of confirmation. With a small nod and sightly unsure smile, the pair began to follow the three.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Twitter: @pandaspaya


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